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The same thought must have occurred to Violet. She’s trembling. I’m trembling.
Dunbar grabs my arm and roughly drags me to my feet. I stumble at the sudden movement but manage to right myself.
The loud bang of the front door slamming into the wall in the foyer startles me.
Before I can react, a thick arm folds around my neck in a solid vise. Cold metal presses to my temple. Fuckers. I clutch at the arm, desperate to pull it away.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the memory of the last time the barrel of a gun was held to my head. I mentally shake away the nightmare of that night, not letting my late husband win. I open my eyes.
Three agents—two Black men and a white woman—wearing black FBI vests enter the living room, guns drawn. They stop.
I claw at the cop’s arm, desperate for air, but his long sleeves prevent me from doing much harm. The fear I felt a moment ago toward the FBI when they entered the house flickers out like a fire doused with water. The fear and panic due to the gun at my head burns brighter.
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll kill her.” The cop grinds the barrel of the gun into my temple. I wince and stop fighting him, my strength rapidly dwindling.
A sob comes from the couch. From Violet.
The arm at my neck tightens its grip. A white burst of light flashes in front of me. I clutch at his arm again, attempting to pry it off. I. Can’t. Breathe.
I feel my life slipping away. Everything turns blurry. I close my eyes and play in my head the last time I was with Amelia at the beach. Of her dancing on the sand and the waves kissing her feet.
Of us giggling like we didn’t have a care in the world.
A loud noise jerks me to the present and my body jolts.
The arm slackens from my neck, and I thirstily gulp in air through my raw throat.
My legs give out from under me and my body sags, my reaction time too drunk from what just happened to save me.
One of the male agents lunges toward me. His arm catches around my waist, keeping me from falling to the ground. My gaze shifts to Violet. She’s standing in front of me, looking like she’s going to faint or vomit or both.
The other agents’ mouths are moving, but no words come from them. Just ringing. Endless ringing.
The male agent guides me away from the couch. His mouth moves, so I assume he’s asking me questions. I feel like I’m in a giant bubble, and everything outside it is moving in slow motion.
One of the men goes to Violet. The other crouches where I stood a moment ago. My gaze drops to the floor. To where the cop lies, his blood soaking into the carpet.
Her husband isn’t going to be happy about that. The words spin in my head, harder, faster, making me dizzy and nauseous. The heavy coppery odor choking the air isn’t helping either.
Voices begin to break through the ringing in my ears. Something about Violet’s husband being arrested for weapons trafficking. The evidence being flawless. He won’t be granted bail. Shock registers on Violet’s face. A new kind of shock compared to a minute ago.
She doesn’t have to try to escape anymore. She doesn’t have to pretend to be someone she isn’t.
She’s free.
And I won’t have to worry about him revealing my true identity. He’s got bigger problems to deal with than my past.
I pull away from the female FBI agent and hug Violet. “You’re free. He’ll never be able to touch you again.” The words rasp over my lips, scraping past my sore throat.
A tremble takes over her body and she’s shaking more than she was before the agents showed up. But it’s a different kind of shaking.
She’s crying.
I’m crying.
And we’re hugging and laughing and sobbing. It’s over. Violet and Sophie are finally safe. They’re free to begin their lives over again. Together.
Jealousy crawls its way in, spinning fine threads, creating a web of frustration and sorrow and pain. I sweep the cobwebs aside, taking comfort that a mother won’t be losing her child. They’ll be able to have tea parties and school concerts and talks about first crushes. They’ll get to have a beautiful life together.
